The Centurion's Empire (19 page)

"Brigands attacked a village but were beaten off and fled west," Guy called in French under instruction from Lady Anne.
All the while Anne told her story. She and her husband had been fleeing for the town of Meaux with their children
Louise, Marie, and Jean. They had taken refuge in the village when one of their former servants had betrayed them to a
group of Jacques that had become separated from the main mob. Her husband and his squire had died covering the
family's flight to the chapel.

"You fought uncommonly well," said Vitellan.

"That is, for a woman or for a pampered noble's wife, do you mean, sir?" she replied with a smile.

"I have seen women fight as well as Guy says you did, and even better, but only after I'd trained them for many weeks."
She blinked in surprise. "So you English train women to come against us now?"

"No, it was against the Danes when they invaded."

"There are no Danes invading England."

"But five hundred years ago there were."

She stared at him, waiting for the smile that would confess his words to be a joke. The smile never came. She looked to
Guy. Guy nodded.

"Do not be alarmed, Lady Anne, you have not been rescued by a madman," Vitellan reassured her. "You had been
trapped in the chapel for an hour, you say?"

"Yes. They were toying with me, only giving me many small cuts with their pikes. They could have rushed me at any
time, but they knew they had all the time they wanted."

"So your husband taught you to fight like that?"

"Not so, good sir. My father was a baker, and a very rich baker. He owned nine mills and I was his only child. He thought
to marry me to a knight, and he had a notion that the wife of a knight need know something of war's arts, along with the
more usual women's skills and graces. Nobody could persuade him otherwise, so I was taught something of sword, pike,
and archery."

Vitellan rubbed his chin speculatively. "Did it help you to secure a husband?"

"Not at all. Sir Perceval had been captured during the fighting near Caen in 1346, and had lost all of his wealth and
estate in the ransom. My father provided an estate near Trakel for my dowry, and the marriage was quickly settled."

"But the Jacques have not threatened Trakel," said Guy.

"We were visiting my father in Beauvais when the Jacquerie began their revolt."
By sunset they were fifteen miles from the village, and they stopped in a wood to rest and eat some of the dried meat that
they had kept. Mai had begun bleeding again on the road, and his blood had soaked right through the
stretcher and dripped into the dust. He was still conscious by the time they stopped, but very near to death. Gilbert boiled
a soup of chopped meat in a helmet, but Mai choked while trying to swallow it.

"Best to die wi' conscience quiet," he said as Guy and Vitellan knelt beside him. "Honored to know you, Master."

"You can't die without Master's permission," said Guy awkwardly.

Mai closed his eyes. "Nobody to read over the dead now, Master. Best make sure that no others die."

"Would that I were such a good leader," said Vitellan.

"Dummart, who's to read over you if you die?" pleaded Guy. "Tighten your straps, Mai, the worst is over."

"Aye, the worst is over. I'll say a good word for all of ye ... wherever I'm sent."
Lady Anne tended him for a while, and managed to get him to drink some tepid soup and keep it down.

"If he can eat he has a chance," she said to Guy, who had not left his side. "Now he needs sleep."
Some minutes later Mai had fallen asleep and was breathing regularly. Guy began to doze as the others ate and talked,
but when he awoke Mai was dead.

They cut makeshift wooden trowels from branches and dug a grave in the soft soil. Vitellan spoke some Latin that he
remembered from a Christian burial in the first century, then a few words of some language that none of them
understood. Guy wept openly, and the children quietly gathered spring flowers for Mai's grave at the edge of the little
fire's glow.

Gilbert had first watch, and Guy ordered the others to get what sleep they could. He was talking with Vitellan about how
they might forage for food the next day when Lady Anne came over to them.

"There is no safety in any direction," she said as they sat in the darkness, "but I had heard that the royal family was
sheltering at Meaux, on the River Marne. There is a fortress area, called the Market of Meaux, a strong and secure
place. Perhaps three hundred great ladies and their children are there, guarded by loyal knights. The town is loyal, too."

"A fortress," Vitellan said doubtfully. "I have seen what

the Jacquerie have done to fortified houses. What of the town? Are the people really to be trusted?"

"The mayor and magistrates have sworn to protect the Dauphin's family from dishonor."

"Seems as good as any place in this terrible land," said Guy listlessly.

"Three hundred noblewomen will draw the Jacques like flies to spilled honey," said Vitellan.

"Aye Master, but if the Market be a stout fort it can withstand a siege for months. When winter comes the Jacques will
flee the cold to their homes."

"It's the seventh of June, still two weeks before the solstice and half a year away from winter."

"A siege of six months is nothing rare."

Vitellan sat silent in the darkness for some time, making up his mind. "Meaux it shall be," he finally declared. "How
far from here would it be, my lady?"

"Two days at today's pace, good sir."

"It's new moon," said Vitellan, looking through the trees to the west where Venus and Saturn hung brilliantly together
above the horizon. "It's also near solstice, so the days are long. Mai is gone, so we can make two or three times today's
pace. Tell me, if we were on the road before dawn and marched the whole day, stopping only to graze and water the
horses, then could we reach Meaux by dusk?"

"Dusk or soon after," replied Lady Anne after thinking for a moment.

"Then we must do that. If the Jacques are converging there, we have to reach the Market of Meaux before it comes under
siege."

As Vitellan had hoped, the party was taken for a band of English men-at-arms and their French servants. As he had
feared, they encountered larger and larger groups of villeins going in their direction. Nearly all were male, and carried
improvised or looted weapons. Lady Anne chatted constantly with Guy and Vitellan, trying to bring their colloquial
French to a usable level for the hours ahead.

They managed to get within sight of Meaux by the evening. The fields surrounding the town were covered with
Jacques sitting around bonfires, and Will put their number between five and ten thousand. There appeared to be no
organization, other than a general focus on Meaux. "Tomorrow the King Bonhomme arrives" was the cry as they passed
the carousing groups.

"In a way this is a good sign," observed Vitellan as they walked along the road, waving and returning cheers. "A rabble
like this cannot live off the land for long, and there are virtually no armor and supply waggons."

"A short siege after all, Master?" said Guy.

"No more than weeks. As long as they can be kept out of the town and away from its stores they will soon be in search of
an easier target. Our problem will be getting through the gates, but I have a few ideas ... that's odd." He peered ahead to
a line of bonfires. 'There's quite a group near the gates, and the gates are open."
As they got closer Guy mounted the lead packhorse and gathered the reins of the other three in so that they made a
heavy wedge to push through the crowd. "Make way for King Bonhomme's captains, make way for King Bon-homme's
captains," he called firmly and ignored questions thrown back to him. They broke through to a clear space between the
gates of the town and the crowd of about a thousand Jacques. Four bonfires burned on either side of the road, but it was
not clear who had set them. A dozen frightened pikemen of the town militia were standing on the road, barring the way.

"That's bad," Vitellan said as he surveyed the mob.

"They bar the way to the Jacques," said Guy, leaning down from the horse. Vitellan pointed to one side, where a town
magistrate was speaking with two Jacque captains. All were smiling and nodding as they conversed.

"They should not even be talking with them. I've faced mobs, you have to be firm. They should close the gates and
station archers on the walls."

Having only one man able to speak fluent French was a serious handicap. Vitellan briefed Will on what to say, then they
moved forward to near where the Jacque captains were talking to the magistrates. Will strode over and began
announcing a message from King Jacque Bonhomme for the

mayor of Meaux. This caught them all by surprise, and they turned to listen. The Jacque leaders scratched their heads
and frowned, and the magistrate nodded and smiled uncertainly. Then, at a word from the magistrate, the pikemen stood
aside to let Vitellan's group enter.

Suddenly a lone Jacque broke free of the crowd and ran for the gates. Immediately the militiamen lowered their pikes
and blocked the way.

"Please, please, I am the Countess de Hussontal," she cried, tearing off her cap. Now a dozen Jacques ran forward and
seized her while the militia kept their pikes leveled and the magistrate watched in silence with his arms folded.

"Ho! Strip her where can all see!" shouted Vitellan in broken French. Lady Anne gasped in horror as the Jacques roared
their approval and the countess was thrown down by her captors. She writhed and screamed as they tore off her clothes
with the skill of practice.

"Gather your men, string your bows," Vitellan said to Giles, then he turned to Guy while rummaging in a sad-dlepack.

"Keep the horses together, ride for the gates at my signal."

"But the pikemen—"

"Trust me, they'll break ranks and run," said Vitellan as he hefted an odd black jar about the size of a child's head.

"Giles, take the gates with your men, Lady Anne, follow with your children. Hold the gates open. Shoot into the Jacque
crowd and shoot anyone in the town who tries to close the gates. The rest of you, run for the countess when I do."
Vitellan strolled across to one of the bonfires, uncoiling a length of string from the jar. The string began to sputter as he
dipped it into the flames, then he calmly walked back toward them. He stopped, examining the progress of the fuse as if
it were an interesting book, then he hurled the jar just behind the foremost Jacques in the crowd.
The explosion was shocking and shattering, it was the first gunpowder blast that most of them had ever heard. Fragments
of iron tore through flesh like jagged arrowheads and pandemonium was instant and complete.
Will backhanded his sword into a Jacque captain's face as

Vitellan and the others ran forward and began to cut down the dumbfounded Jacques surrounding the countess. The
horses reared in fright and bolted, but Guy turned them for the gates. The combination of the explosion and charging
horses was too much for the militiamen, who threw down their pikes and ran. Guy was first through the gates, struggling
to control the horses. Lady Anne followed with her children, followed in turn by the bowmen who backed to the gate,
firing at the writhing mass of Jacques as they went. Gilbert reached the gates to find Lady Anne standing over a body and
brandishing a bloody pike at a half-circle of frightened townsmen holding a huge wooden crossbar.
The countess was bruised and bleeding as Will dragged her to her feet by one arm and pushed her at the gate. "Go! Run
for the gate!" he shouted in French.

At that moment the archers fired the last of their arrows. Vitellan shouted to fall back, but by now the Jacques were
beginning to rally behind their surviving captain. Pole weapons against swords is a one-sided fight, and Vitellan saw Will
fall before him with a pike through one eye. Blades and points began to thud and scrape across the Roman's armor. Two
of the bowmen ran forward with the militiamen's fallen pikes, and the Jacques fell back for a moment before the longer
weapons. That was all the time they needed to turn and run for the gates. Behind the gates Lady Anne and the other
bowmen were holding back the militia and townsmen while the countess and children huddled together.

"Close them, quickly!" shouted Vitellan, and now the militia, townsmen, and travelers worked together to push the
gates shut against the Jacques and drop the heavy wooden bar into place. Vitellan collapsed before he could take another
step, completely spent. Behind the gate they could hear the mob banging on the heavy wood.

"Fool! Fool!" ranted the magistrate. "We had them listening to us, we might have made a truce. You are all to be
arrested."

"What is he saying?" gasped Vitellan to Anne, unable to understand rapidly spoken French. The magistrate continued
to shout.

"We are under detention."

At that moment the countess, still naked, stormed forward. Her eyes were blazing with rage and she was shrieking at the
top of her voice. Vitellan managed to make out something about pigs, duhg, and being flayed alive. The magistrate
shrank back, then fumbled with the pin of his cloak—which the countess had apparently demanded.
Giles draped Vitellan's arm around his neck and hoisted him up, then they started down the road. The streets were full
of people setting up tables in the streets and carrying baskets of bread and meat. The magistrate followed some distance
behind them, shouting increasingly loud abuse as he regained his courage. The pikemen of the militia were behind him,
walking in no order, unwilling to obey the magistrate and arrest the intruders.